


A sea and a sky

by Revolutionaeternam



Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: M/M, creativity and stuff, im tired ok, rambling about hope
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-29
Updated: 2020-09-29
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:35:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 795
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26715322
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Revolutionaeternam/pseuds/Revolutionaeternam
Summary: A rambly ficlet about hope with Barrow and Ellis after we see them part ways in the film
Relationships: Thomas Barrow/Richard Ellis
Kudos: 22





	A sea and a sky

“Will they ever see it our way, d’you think?” They walked side by side in the cold of the almost-sunrise, wind chill running around their ankles, in the dark of the not quite sun and the shadows of the houses either side of them made tall tracks along the roads. If there had been someone else on the street, and there was, and if they had looked at the two figures, and they didn’t, they would have seen a dull red-orange glow pass back and forth between the two of them, giving each a misty shadow in the air for a moment.  
“Not likely, not for everyone. But we’ll always see it our way, and that’ll be enough for a while.” This was the man on the left talking, who was a little taller and wore his coat a little shorter, curving inwards at the shoulders, and who was called Ellis, although that doesn’t matter so much. He was solid in his step, with the sort of carelessness that comes from having recently dropped a great deal of care and being rather uninclined to pick it up any time soon. His partner carried far more nervous energy, and his fingers drummed onto the sides of his legs, his steps more scattered and unequal, but due from sheer excitement rather than any type of intoxicant. Although, if you counted happiness as an intoxicant then each had been in withdrawal for most of their lives, and were now fasting in private luxury between themselves.  
The air between them seemed like most air to outsiders, rather thin and see-through and really not worth the bother remarking on. For them however, it was a promise and a sea and a tapestry and a sky all in one. It was the promise of belonging and of Home, it was a sea of knowledge and experiences shared with a thin frost of nervousness, it was a tapestry where the world was drawn in bright, gaudy colours that flashed and shimmered with hope that had never been there before, and it was a sky of electric potential that cracked and tore and roiled.  
“But surely, there’s enough of our lot, and they’ll have to listen. The women got their rights, and we’ll fight for ours one day, they’ll have to see it.” This wasn’t said so much because the man believed it, but because in his mind at that moment there was nothing but hope, the reality of shirts and wages and books and fights had left, and he was entirely suspended in hope. This was not the sort of hope that settles quietly around the bones and can only be felt when it’s gone, nor the kind of hope that is worn by martyrs in the place of armour. This was simply the bliss of the ideal, the dreamy inspiration that comes at sunrise and nowhere else, the dream that has no roots in success, but is fed honeyed memories and is ordered to multiply.  
“True, but there’s more women than us, so it’s harder for us to get it going, harder to make them listen. They listen to numbers, and then tradition after.” Ellis was a more realistic sort of hoper, the type who floats in a sea rather than the clouds. He was far harder to motivate, unaffected by the passing summer winds, but when a current came from underneath he was impossible to stop, and his hope flowed out of his heart to hold all of him, and his blood would push it along, and he was magnificent in hope. Today was not a day of currents for him, he knew that just meeting someone else like him meant less than he wanted it to. He would still have to leave soon, and they would still be silent in the world. He could have said more, talked about the police raid that had just arrested Barrow, talk about what he had said to disguise himself, about how it was all hopeless and they would never be treated equally, and he could have said more again. He didn’t.  
They stayed quiet for the rest of the walk, occasionally tapping each other’s hands, turning to pretend it was a mistake, realising that they didn’t have to, and then silently shining as they did it again. They spoke a little, and meant a great deal, and none of it matters too much, because it all matters too much. They were together, and they were talking and even if they could never have more, it was enough to float in their seas and skies of hope, and they stopped being Ellis and Barrow and became he and he, stopped being him and him and became them.  
They waited, and kissed, and hoped.


End file.
